


Vanya, Learning

by siriuspiggyback



Series: Closer I Am To Fine [7]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison's Powers, Character Study, Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven, Gen, Good Sibling Vanya Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, No Incest, Rumours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24557383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuspiggyback/pseuds/siriuspiggyback
Summary: Her apartment has never really felt like a home to her, and Vanya can’t say that she’s sad to leave it behind, not when it holds so few good memories for her. Vanya is half buried under cardboard boxes when the doorbell rings.Or, Vanya is 29 years old, and she is only now learning to be a sister.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves & Patrick
Series: Closer I Am To Fine [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681714
Comments: 38
Kudos: 344





	Vanya, Learning

**Author's Note:**

> this really wasn't what i had planned, but sometimes it just be like that
> 
> warnings for discussions around allison's powers, loss of autonomy, and a small reference to dub-con

Vanya is half buried under cardboard boxes when the doorbell rings. 

She is in the process of packing away all her worldly possessions, ready to move back home for a while. Her apartment has never really felt like a home to her, and she can’t say that she’s sad to leave it behind, not when it holds so few good memories for her. The Hargreeves mansion held bad memories, but good ones too. Memories of family and laughter, before things turned sour. Here, there was none of that, just memories of prescription-hazy days and hours of writing out all of her most shameful, hateful thoughts.

Moving back home seems the obvious thing to do. Finally, she could feel like she has a family, be part of something. Vanya will probably move back out eventually, find somewhere of her own, but this time she will find a place that she loves, that feels like hers, rather than the first listing she finds.

Luther and Diego are coming over in about an hour to help her load up the van, but for now, she isn’t expecting anyone. The doorbell startles her. A little paranoid perhaps, but in the wake of the almost apocalypse, she can’t blame herself for it.

She opens the door a fraction, foot wedged behind it like Diego has taught her. 

Behind the door is a tall, generically handsome man. The expression in his eyes makes her stomach twist, something frantic and flimsy, with heavy shadows underneath. He looks familiar. “Hi,” says Vanya warily. “Can I help you?”

The man bites his lip, looking about ready to bolt, but after a moment of deliberation, he says, “Hi. It’s, uh, Vanya, right?”

The ball of anxiety in her chest tightens. She takes a slow breath, making sure that she still has a firm grip on her powers, before saying, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Right,” the man says. He scratches his jaw, and his hand trembles faintly. “I’m really sorry to- I probably shouldn’t be here, actually. I don’t know why I…”

Vanya isn’t sure what, but something about him reminds her of when Klaus had visited her in the past, strung out and desperate. He looks fragile. Despite herself, she asks, “Are you okay?”

The man laughs then, the sound just on the wrong side of unhinged. “I’m- I don’t even know anymore.” He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hand, and then when he looks at her, his expression turns contrite. “Sorry, I don’t mean to freak you out. I can go.”

“No, wait,” says Vanya. “Do I- Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?”

“Uh, kind of,” he says. “I’m Patrick.”

Suddenly, Vanya realises why he looks so familiar. She’s seen his face a hundred times, on magazine covers and even her own TV screen, often next to Allison, smiling a Hollywood smile. “Oh, God,” she says, “of course you are.”

He smiles a little, a thin press of lips. “It’s okay. I mean, we never got to meet, what with… everything.”

The everything is, in this case, a long history of mistakes and estrangement. Vanya cringes. “Right. Um, do you want to come in? I can make coffee?”

“I- If you’re sure? I know this is kind of weird, me showing up like this,” Patrick says.

“Not at all,” Vanya replies, even though, yeah, it kind of is. She ushers him inside, and goes to put a pot of coffee on. Luckily, she has yet to pack away her kitchen.

Patrick looks around, but doesn’t seem to be judging the cramped apartment. “Are you moving?”

“Yeah,” says Vanya. “Moving home for a while.”

He nods. “I heard about your father,” he says politely. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she dismisses, electing to brush over that topic. She suspects that Allison wouldn’t be happy with Vanya sharing family secrets with her ex. “Sugar? Milk?”

“No, black’s fine, thanks,” he says, accepting the mug with a grateful smile. His grip is shaky, and he clutches it between both hands to prevent himself from spilling.

Vanya takes a seat across from him. “So, if you don’t mind me asking…?”

“Why am I here?” he guesses with an embarrassed smile. “No, that’s a fair question. I don’t know if I have a good answer, though.”

“Nothing’s happened? Claire’s okay?” asks Vanya, a little worried about her niece, even if they never met.

“She’s fine,” he reassures her. “She’s at my sisters. I just needed…” He looks down at his coffee. Then, he blurts, “I read your book.”

She can’t help but stiffen at the non-sequitur. “Oh,” she says. (If only she had been this lost for words back when she bought that typewriter.)

“I never read it before, Allison didn’t want me to so of course I didn’t, but after everything happened, I kind of felt like I never really knew her, y’know?” His hands clench around his coffee mug. “I just wanted to- I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to understand it all.”

“Sure,” Vanya says, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

He takes a loud breath. “You wrote about how she… used her powers on people. To get what she wanted?”

He doesn’t know about it all, of course, doesn’t know about Allison’s rumour and Vanya powers, but he’s poking a bruise that he can’t see. Vanya swallows the unhealed pain, because this isn’t about her, and tries to focus on what Patrick is saying. “Yes, I did write that,” she replies, and she feels her ears burn in shame at her admission.

Patrick nods, eyes staring hard into his coffee, which has started to shake harder. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot. I don’t really know- How do you know how much of it’s real? Because I’ve been going over it in my head, but I still can’t tell. Did I really want to ask her out? Did I fall in love with her, or did she make me? When we slept together, was that-” he cuts himself off roughly, covering his mouth with his palm. Patrick’s face looks grey and pinched, expression like he’s nauseated. He blinks a few times, and then seems to focus on her again. “Sorry. That’s- Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Vanya tells him, despite not feeling okay at all. The look on his face, the betrayal, it’s like looking in a mirror and seeing her darkest moments, when Allison admitted what she had done. 

“No, really, I’m sorry, we’re total strangers, and you shouldn’t have to- sorry. I just, uh. I guess I haven’t slept in… a while,” he explains.

She’s not surprised; the purple shadows under his eyes are deep. “No, don’t apologise. I- I get it. I mean, not exactly, it’s not the same, but… she rumoured me, too.”

His eyes widen. “She did? And did you know? Could you tell?” he asks, voice tinged with desperation.

“Not until she told me, years later,” Vanya says. “It was when we were kids. Four years old. Our dad, he made her do it.”

A look of revulsion crosses his face. “Your dad made her?”

Vanya nods. “He made all of them use their powers. He used them. They were just weapons to him, it was their only value, the only thing that made them special,” she tells him. This is what she has learned, too late to put in her book, but maybe not too late to help Patrick. “Allison was taught that her powers were her strength, and she was never taught the consequences of using them. But she isn’t-... She isn’t bad. She just didn’t understand. She used her powers to her advantage, to get what she wanted, and she hurt people, but she never _wanted_ to hurt people.”

“So you’re saying it’s not her fault?” he asks.

“No,” Vanya corrects, “I’m just saying that it wasn’t done maliciously, and now that she understands it better, she doesn’t want to carry on hurting people. I can’t know for sure how much of it was real - no one except Allison can tell you that - but for what it’s worth, I do think she loved you.”

“Yeah?” Patrick says, half hopeful.

Vanya gives a little smile. “Yeah, I think so. She told me about you, y’know, when she invited me to the wedding. She was really happy.”

Patrick swallows, and says, “I think I was happy, too.”

She twists her hands, not sure where the boundaries lay and unwilling to overstep. "Have you talked to Allison about any of this?"

“I’ve tried, but every time I hear her voice I end up thinking...”

“That she might rumour you again?” she finishes.

Grimacing, Patrick says, “Yeah.”

“And I guess that’s the same reason you don’t want her to see Claire,” Vanya says with a sympathetic smile.

“I know, she promised she wouldn’t,” says Patrick, “but I keep thinking about it. Like, what if she rumours Claire to- to not love me anymore? I can’t lose Claire, I _can’t.”_

_“_ And you won’t,” Vanya says firmly. “She wouldn’t do that. She loves Claire more than anything. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but believe me, she wouldn’t.”

He lets out a slow breath, and takes a shaky sip of coffee. “I think I know that. I just… panic.”

Vanya hums, and finally takes a drink of her own coffee, bittersweet in her mouth. Honestly, she could relate to it. Not so much now, but back when Allison first revealed the rumour, Vanya had been terrified that her sister could make her forget again at any moment. Every time she spoke to Allison, she braced herself. Now, though, things have gotten easier. For the first time, she feels like she really knows her sister, and with that familiarity is trust. “Have you tried writing to her?”

“What?”

“Writing. Like, a letter. That way you can talk to her without worrying about her powers,” suggests Vanya.

“That… That’s a really good idea,” says Patrick.

She hopes she’s not blushing, and says, “I hope it helps.”

“Thank you,” he replies, voice maybe a little choked. “For all of this. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s okay,” Vanya assures him. “If you ever want to talk to someone, you can give me a call, if you’d like? It helps to have someone who understands.”

Patrick blinks at her. Then, after a beat, he asks, “Can I give you a hug?”

(The answer is yes.)

She sends him off with her number, the Hargreeves mansion’s postal address, and makes him promise to go find a motel and get some sleep before he starts the journey home. He leaves her with an exhausted, but grateful smile. Vanya washes up their mugs, and gets back to packing up her things.

When Diego and Luther show up to help her, she gives them both a hug, and they look a little stunned, but they both hug her back. She tells them that she’s sorry for publishing that book, for not understanding. They tell her that it’s okay, and they even look like they have forgiven her.

Worried, Luther asks, “Is something wrong?”

Vanya lets out a long breath, and when she says, “No, nothing’s wrong,” she thinks she might just mean it.


End file.
